"We'll have another go at him. But it's no use."
They went into the office. A smoky lamp stood on a desk littered with papers. MacAdams asked when the train left Ripley. Nichols told him that they had half an hour. They sat down, and Nichols, drawing his chair briskly to the desk, began.
"Now, Mr. MacAdams, in buying land you have to consider four things; land, water, climate, and markets. Our land—"
She could not go back to Coalinga with him. Probably there would be a warrant out for her arrest. Oh, Bert! She had done her best, her very best. There were five dollars left, MacAdams's money. The whole thing was unreal. She was dreaming it.
Nichols was leading him up to the decision. MacAdams evaded it. Nichols began again. The blank form was out now and the fountain-pen ready.
"You like the piece, don't you? You're satisfied with it. You've found everything exactly as we represented it. It's the best buy on the tract. Well, now we'll just close it up."
MacAdams put his hands in his pockets and gazed at the map on the wall. "I'm not saying it isn't a good proposition."
Nichols began again. Was forty acres more than MacAdams wanted to carry? MacAdams would not exactly say that. Would a change in the terms be more convenient for him? MacAdams had no fault to find with the terms. Did the question of getting the land into crop trouble him? No. Well, then they'd get down to the point. The payments on this piece would be—"I'll not be missing my train, Mr. Nichols?"
Patiently Nichols went back to the beginning. Land, water, transportation, and cli—Helen could endure it no longer. One straight question would end it, would leave her facing certainty. She leaned forward and heard her own voice.
"Mr. MacAdams, you came to look at this land. You've looked at it. Do you want it?"